"Merritt and Mister Gardener have left for the Gardening Center, father." reported Phillip, standing up straight before his father with his hands behind his back. "He said he will be back sometime this evening with reinforcements. Meanwhile, Johnathan has made his way to the weapons caches in order to gather some supplies."
"Good, good..." Abhartach replied, absentmindedly polishing one of his swords. His back was too his son as he stopped for a moment to take a swing at the air. "Everything is right on task, then? What of the faoladh? Feargus said that they are also on task, but his mind seems occupied elsewhere."
"The faoladh are on task, but I believe that you are correct in your assumption. He appears concerned about something."
"He's worried about something." the revenant said, swinging again. "I don't like that. Tell me, Philip, what do you believe he is most worried about right now?"
Pausing to think, Philip kept his father waiting for a brief moment before answering. "His daughter?"
"Oh-ho! Why do you say that?"
"She seemed shaken after her latest mission and he seemed upset with her as a result. I wasn't able to make out what they were saying from where I was seated at the party, however, so my assumption is based on incomplete information."
"Very good, Philip. Look at you!" Abhartach chuckled, swinging again. "I believe that you are partly right. I don't think his worry is limited to just his daughter, however. She is disposable to him. The faoladh are cruel to their women like that. Personally, I find her to be most useful, if not a bit rough around the edges. No, I believe that Claire accidentally highlighted a fear of his… It is also a concern to me, however..."
"What is it, father?"
"The majority of our troops have never seen a real battle before, let alone participated in one." the older of the two stated. "You can train all you like, but training is only part of what makes a warrior. In reality, we won't know what our troops are like until the day we send them into battle. The true value of a person comes from how they react in a stressful situation..."
In the blink of an eye, Abhartach turned and thrust the blade in the direction of Philip's head, causing blood to gush from the man's cheek. It was only a cut as Abhartach failed to actually aim for his face or neck, but the man was pleased. His son barely flinched and did not recoil in pain. Philip stood there like a stone, staring back at his father, and it made Abhartach smile.
"That is how you know the true measure of a man." he said, standing straight up and taking his weapon away. "Will he break or will the fire forge him into something deadly?" With the cloth he was polishing the weapon with, he wiped his son's blood off the blade. "In our case, it's mostly women. The same sentiment applies. I need you to be strong, Phillip. You are an extension of myself and I cannot have you be weak."
"Yes, father." the younger of the two replied stoically, not even reacting to the red liquid staining the collar of his shirt.
"Speaking of which, I see that you have made some progress with Miss Pomeroy." Abhartach grinned knowingly. "Or rather, 'Trancy,' since we chose her for her bloodline. Your union will create the first noble child I have ever had. We'll dilute the commoner's blood with a few generations, certainly, but it is an important step. Has she given herself to you, yet?"
"No, sir. I'm still working on it." Philip lied about attempting some sort of progress, but his face was neutral enough that it didn't show. He looked his father right in the eyes as he said this, knowing full well that he had every intention of putting it off for as long as possible.
"Shame. I don't mind a shotgun wedding, as long as there are results." Holding up the sword again, proving that it was now spotless, Abhartach concluded. "You are dismissed."
"Thank you, father." the younger man answered with a light bow. He turned and walked out of the room, carefully shutting the door behind him and walking a ways before allowing himself to emote. Sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, he reached up and touched his wound.
"Ow..." he cringed. It wasn't a deep cut, but it was painful. The man walked briskly in hopes to getting it cleaned up quickly. While his father and many of the warriors of the household were keen on scars, he wasn't sure if he was and was hoping he wouldn't have one right on his face. He needed a first aid kit.
Now, being the privileged individual that he was, he didn't exactly know where one was located, as he usually had other people do it for him. Tracking down a servant would have proved more difficult than simply tracking down the first aid kit, so he made a few educated guesses. He thought about places where sharp instruments may be kept, as where there were sharp things, there were accidents with them. The kitchen was his first stop, given this line of logic, so he snuck downstairs into the servant's area, where most kitchens were in these old houses. He wasn't worried about running into anyone, as he was the prince and could go wherever he liked, and yet, there was one person who he didn't really want to see. Sure enough, it was the exact person who was in the kitchen at that precise moment.
Farroel was in the process of not-so-sneakily raiding the refrigerator. The full moon was getting closer, so he needed as many calories as he could take in for the transformation process. Without much to burn, it would be more difficult than necessary, so his body forced him to seek out food. Philip caught him, however, at the exact moment that he was cramming raw meat in his mouth. The scene made the prince shudder a bit at the brutality of it.
"Is that tonight's dinner you're eating early?" Philip inquired, causing the faoladh to jump. Quickly, Farroel closed the refrigerator again as if he were innocent and swallowed what was left in his maw.
"What? No! I was just looking..." the wolfman replied, turning around to face his friend with a guilty expression. Then, his expression changed as he saw Philip's face.
"My father's 'unique' sense of humour." Philip answered. "Do you know where I can find a first aid kit?"
"Uh, yeah… Hang on a second." Farroel quickly made his way to the sink to wash his hands before shuffling around in various cabinets. Eventually, he came across what he was looking for, and set the kit on the counter before motioning for the other to walk over to him. "Come here." he said, grabbing a paper towel and soaking it in water as the other man walked forward. Immediately, he began dabbing his friend's face with it, wiping off some of the blood while applying pressure to the wound with another paper towel with his other hand.
Once he had cleaned it up a bit, he prompted the other to hold things there for a moment before digging around in the kit again. He pulled out some disinfecting wipes and held it up to the other's face. "Okay, move your hand. This is going to sting a bit."
Once it made contact with his wound, Philip took in a sharp breath through his teeth and scrunched his face. "You weren't lying..." the prince told him, but afterwards, neither of them really had anything of importance to say.
Instead, they stood there in silence while Philip was being tended to. He had to confess to himself that he was rather enjoying the attention. It had been a long time since Farroel had touched his face in a similar way. It made his heart flutter a bit, as always. Yet, Farroel had told him to forget about it, as lingering on such thoughts would make life harder for both of them. They had other obligations to attend to and it wouldn't be right for them to attempt to juggle both. No matter how hard the prince tried, however, he just couldn't forget. Then again, the wolfman himself couldn't really, either. As he tended to Philip's cut, he was in his own daze.
His mind wandered to places that he promised himself that he wouldn't venture to. Internally, he lamented that the cut was on Philip's face as his eyes examined him closely. Farroel could feel the bones of his cheeks and take in those dark eyes of his. Philip always had a sort of serious expression with the neutral position of his rather full eyebrows always making him look like he was wearing a bit of a scowl. It made him appear far more mysterious than he actually was. The wolfman admired the manliness of his goatee and the slight pink of his lips, finding himself distracted by them as he applied the adhesive patch over the cut. The temptation was so alluring. Philip was right there and from their previous interactions, he still appeared rather keen, although Farroel told him to let go of his interest. Then again, Philip was dancing with his own fiance at the party the previous night, so things might have changed.
He failed to move his hand away from the other's cheek even as he completed his task, but Philip was too busy enjoying the touch to notice. Both of them knew that the needed to fight against the pull. They had obligations to attend to. The futures of their families were at stake. The noble legacy of their clans depended on them. Farroel especially, was slated to marry his fiance in the very near future, as much as he didn't want to. He hated the concept. He hated that he was forced to be with someone who- although he was quite fond of on a kinship level- was not either in love with, nor attracted to in the slightest. Evangeline could not make him feel the way her brother did and Sasha could not make Philip feel the way the Farroel did. There was no spark. There was nothing interesting or tantalising at all about them in this way, but with each other, it was magnetic.
It was that pull that caused the two of them to share a moment of weakness- or perhaps strength. Neither of them noticed that they were inching closer, nor did they register that their eyes had fluttered shut until they both felt the bliss of a shared kiss with the person that they loved. They forgot where they were. They forgot all of their problems- about the ambitions of their fathers, their legacies, or even the imminent clash between their allies and The United Kingdom itself. It was just the two of them together, sharing a moment of genuine, mutual intimacy with the person that they have always wanted to be with. It had to end at some point, however, and when it did, it was bitter.
Pulling away, Farroel looked at his dazed, but very much pleasantly surprised "mistress" and yearned for more. The realisation as to what he had done and the gravity of his situation, however, caused his eyes to water. Shaking his head, he leaned forward, resting his forehead on the other man's shoulder.
"Damn it..." he lamented, gripping the other man's biceps in both hands. "I can't do this… I can't stand it anymore… I thought that… If I just kept up the lie for long enough, I'd start to believe it, but… I can't… I still want what I'm not supposed to have..."
"I know..." Philip replied, wrapping his arms around the wolfman, placing his hands on the man's upper back. "I know… I don't want to carry on like this, either. I just want… you. The only one I want to marry is you… To do that, though… We'd lose everything else… I can't ask you to do that..."
"I'd have to leave behind Claire and you'd have to leave behind Evangeline…"
"How desperate are we?"
"Pretty damn desperate..." answered the faoladh. Afterwards, however, he blinked and raised his head. "Hold on… Are you saying that… You'd want to marry me if we ran away?"
"Of course! That's the whole point!" the prince declared. "We could be ourselves, and… Have our own house! We would make the rules! Together!"
"What about the plan? You wouldn't be a prince anymore..."
"Who cares? I was never going to inherit anything anyway. Father is immortal. Once he's king, he'll be king forever."
"If we run away, though, he'll be angry. Once he's king, he'll find us."
Pausing, Philip stopped to think, looking down for a moment as he pondered this. He was quiet for a good while, as although he had thought about this for many moons, it never seemed so feasible before. Blinking, he finally looked up again and asked of the other: "What if he never becomes king?"
"How would he not become king? His army is great."
"I wonder about that… Father cut me because he is troubled. He worries about how his troops will do in battle. He says that training and battle is very different from each other."
"Alright, so say he doesn't become king. We're still enemies of HELLSING. They're still going to kill us if he doesn't."
"Perhaps not… What if- bear with me- what if… we helped HELLSING?" Philip suggested. "Then he will surely fail and we will be allies to them! In addition, we have enough information to perhaps negotiate with them? We'll have enough leverage to negotiate the safety of any of our own who surrender, maybe? Yes! It will work!"
"Are you thinking aloud?"
"Yes, pretty much… What do you think, though?"
"I think..." Farroel stopped to mull it over a bit before adding: "I think I'd like to hear your plan, first..."
"We'll need to move quickly, then…" Philip replied. "Pack your bags and meet me by the cars. I'll explain on the way. If you change your mind, we can turn back."
"I don't want to turn back..." shook the wolfman.
"You trust me, then?"
"Against my better judgment, perhaps… Then again, there is no 'good' judgment involved in any of this."
"Let's get going, then." the prince said with a smile. "If we're going to pull this off and elope, we need to act fast."
"Right." nodded Farroel, turning to walk away. He was very duty-oriented and was eager to embark on his task, but Philip stopped him before he could go, pulling him back in for another kiss.
"Just in case." the other man said, reiterating the danger that they were putting themselves in.
They had both thought long and hard about all of this, dreaming about a day where they could be together, but that also included weighing the risks. Both of them had talked themselves and each other out of it before, knowing that both sides might kill them if they fled. HELLSING might kill them and so might their own kin. Furthermore, it was abandoning their responsibilities to their own. Both of them were obligated to carry on the family legacy. Failure to do so was always thought to be letting down everyone, but that didn't mean they didn't have doubts. Abhartach had no intention of allowing his son to inherit, as he had no intention of dying, while Feargus Whelan had had sons long before Farroel, although some of them had either died in combat against HELLSING, or integrated into supernatural society, never to be heard from again. Some were simply taken by their mothers and were hidden where Feargus could not find them. If Farroel failed to continue the family line, Feargus could always have another son. It wasn't as though Feargus was particularly fond of him in the first place. He was replaceable, so Feargus could replace him easily. What both he and Philip worried about was actually their sisters. Claire would miss Farroel dearly and Farroel would miss her, as he loved his sister. He would also miss Evangeline too, as she was a dear friend. Philip was worried about his innocent and somewhat idealistic sister as well, but also worried about Sasha. He hadn't the foggiest idea as to what his father would do with her, although he assumed that he wouldn't dispose of her, since she had noble blood. The price of the pair's freedom would be that those that they loved also would suffer. Yet, they could no longer bear the lies any longer. It pained them, as their suffering meant that those around them would be happier. They had to choose between themselves and their family and as Farroel began cramming a suitcase full of clothes and other personal items, the choice was absolutely clear.
He was frantic as he tried to fold his suits as neatly as he could in such short amount of time, quickly filling a suitcase before working on another. He panted as his abrupt and erratic movements were rather exhausting, but time was of the essence. He needed to hurry and meet Philip as quickly as possible. Yet, in his panic, he forgot to shut the door to his room all of the way, allowing passers by to see inside. Claire's attention was drawn due to the sound he was making, but when she saw movement, she curiously stepped closer toward the door and gently pushed it open.
"Farroel?" she called, arching an eyebrow when the man froze. Her brother stood there like a rabbit that knew the eyes of a fox were on it, waiting for its chance to flee. "What are you doing?"
"Uh… Nothing much…" the man replied, slowing down his pace a bit in order to seem as though things were normal. "Just packing for a short trip."
"Where are you going?" his sister asked. It was a normal question, but Farroel couldn't help but feel put on the spot.
"I don't know where exactly." Technically, this was true, so he didn't feel quite as bad for saying it. "Philip said it was a surprise."
"Alright, but, when do you think you'll be back? The invasion is in a few days, and you need to be able to get to the safe zone." Claire stated.
"Uh… He said it's pretty far, so I think it'll be out of range." the man informed.
"I don't know… Did you ask father what he thinks, first? That is a pretty big change in the plan and I'm not sure if he'll be happy about that..."
"He said it was fine." Farroel lied. Oh, how that stung. He didn't want to lie anymore, but he was going to have to, if he wanted to make it out of there. "I've already asked him and he said that it is perfectly alright."
Placing her hands on her hips, Claire gave the man a look, obviously not believing him. "That doesn't sound like him..."
"I know. I was surprised, too, but everything is good to go."
"Right..." the woman nodded slowly before asking: "So, are you going to tell me the truth, or am I going to have to go get it out of father?"
"NO! I mean, don't talk to father… If you tell father, I will be a dead man, either by his hand or my own."
"What did you do, Farroel?" Claire inquired, her tone rather serious.
"Nothing!" Farroel insisted. "Nothing at all! I haven't done anything at all… yet."
"If you haven't 'yet', then I suggest you don't, whatever that may be. We are in a critical stage, Farroel. We can't have anyone jeopardising the mission."
"Claire, you don't understand..." The man's tone was pleading as he shook his head. Gently, he reached out and held on to his sibling's shoulders, looking her in the eye. "This is something that I have to do. You may never understand the reason why, but you must understand that it is something that I must do in order to survive. The way things are, now… I can't go on living like this. I've tried. Believe me, I've tried my best. No matter what I do, however, it has become abundantly clear that I will not be able to carry on like this for much longer. If things stay the same and the plan that has been laid out for me goes into effect, Claire, I don't know what I'll do..."
For once, the rather serious Claire looked concerned. Her eyes were wide and her eyebrows were bent upwards as she tried desperately to look for clues on her brother's face. She had absolutely no idea where any of this was coming from. Survival? Why was Farroel's survival at stake? Why couldn't he carry on as planned? She knew that he wasn't keen on marrying Evangeline, but she didn't think that it was nearly this serious.
"Farroel, what's wrong?" she questioned, obviously shocked. "What's happening? Why do you need to leave? Are you alright?"
Her brother looked at her for a moment. His eyes were sad, yet, with a glimmer of cautious optimism. Instead of answering her right away, he suddenly pulled her into a tight hug. God, how he was going to miss her. It was a shame that their father was trying to form her into a killer. Really, it was. Claire was the sort who tried to do her best for everyone, like Farroel tried and failed to, and was perhaps the only other person in that household who Farroel considered himself close to. She was his only family. Certainly, they had their father, but she was the only one who acting like it. None of the Whelans, nor the Abhartachs, however, shared hugs like this, so at first, Claire wasn't sure how to react. It was strange. She felt alarmed by the gesture, yet felt herself wishing they had done this more. It was a shame. The woman hadn't realised just how starved for touch she was until that moment- the moment where her brother was trying to say "goodbye."
"I love you, Claire." the man said, his voice sounding strained. "I'm so sorry… I want you to be happy someday and I want you to know that I will always love you. Please… I beg you… Don't tell father about any of this… Please..."
Blinking, Claire slowly—hesitantly- hugged her brother back. She was confused and she was afraid. She was afraid that there was something wrong with her brother. Obviously, if there was, it was something so bad, that he couldn't talk about it. It was bad enough that he didn't want their father to know. It was unlike him. He was always so dutiful. He was always quick to report everything, yet here he was, like a stranger. Yet, he was genuine in a way that she hadn't seen another person behave in in a long time.
"Alright." she quietly answered. "I won't say anything."
"Thank you..." Farroel replied. "You have no idea what this means to me..."
When he pulled away, Claire could see that his eyes were wet. If their father saw him, the patriarch of the Whelan family would have gone ballistic, yet, these tears were not out of sadness. They were out of joy. They were tears of relief. Farroel even smiled at his sister as he spoke to her.
"I hope you understand one day." he said. "My dream is that then, we can be actual siblings."
With that, he pecked his sister on the cheek before closing his suitcases. He then headed toward his bedroom window and opened it, tossing out his bags before looking back at the other faoladh. "Goodbye, Claire."
Quickly, he jumped out of the window before his sister could stop him, landing on his feet as Claire rushed to look out at him. She looked down and saw Farroel and Philip picking up the two bags that Farroel dropped, both holding on to one in one hand while holding hands with the other. Claire watched as they quickly threw the bags into the backseat of a car and got inside before starting it up and blasting out of the driveway. Tires squealed as they took off and disappeared down the driveway.
The woman's heart dropped as she tried her best to wrap her head around the situation. She couldn't understand it. Not yet. She didn't have enough information. All she knew was that Farroel wanted her to keep this a secret and knew that she had made a promise to him to do so. How well she would keep it, however, she did not know. For now, however, she shut his bedroom window and locked it before leaving the room as if she was never there.
She had training to get to. They all had their own tasks and whatever Farroel's was, she was unable to question. All she could do was return to her own work while everyone else did the same. Johnathan returned to the place where he was storing the weapons and loaded them all into the truck long before the time he told the others that he estimated himself leaving at. He knew from the beginning that it wouldn't take long, but had his own operations to worry about in his secret lair.
At that moment, he was busily trying to make sure that the pipes he was working on had no leaks. The man had built a strange structure. It looked like a glass enclosure with a metal chair that was bolted to the floor inside with straps attached to it. The whole thing sat in front of a large monitor with the chair facing toward it, but the part that Johnathan was especially concerned about was the pipes attached to the glass house. Flipping a switch, he waited for a moment, carefully looking at everything while a pump elsewhere activated and filled the box with fog. Tutting, he noticed that there was mist escaping from one of the pipes, prompting him to switch the fog off.
"That's not good." he said, scratching his head. With a sigh, he picked up a wrench and a roll of duct tape before heading toward the problem. Fog was still escaping as the box cleared out, so it was still visible. Fortunately, this was only a test run that just used harmless water vapor, as the real thing would have actually hurt the demon. Grumbling, he began tightening and fastening things, working until it was time for him to leave.
A/N: I worry that this is sort of a let down after the previous chapter, but it's important to the plot, so it sort of has to be done! I'm sorry if you all were waiting for updates on the main cast!
They'll be returning next time in the spotlight. Promise!
Ah... I still miss Baldassare... That still really cuts me up...
I don't know what else to say, here...
Until the next chapter, my duckies...
